Your name is Aubrey Kilmaron, and you fear (too much to) love.
-
It started some cold dark day when you were small and you first realized the fairytale games girls in your kindergarten played were nothing like what you came home to. The rules of playing house were unfamiliar, and though you only learned the word two grades later, they felt too optimistic to hold past the age of playgrounds and lunchboxes everyone's mother packed for them except yours. This was the first time your teachers or little classmates ever heard you laugh, when you realized this; it was a soft sound, rare and terrifyingly aged. It sounded like your father's, and the
By the time he wakes he's alone in the room. It's seven AM, the day before his twenty-third birthday, and beside him the bed is empty. The shades have already been drawn up, although there's little light to let in. The sky outside is a grey-blue peculiar to the moments before dawn on a rainy day. He reads the note left on his lover's side of the bed, pausing before he rouses himself.
The silence of the emptiness disconcerts him, so as he dresses himself he sings. He pulls some tasteful conservative-but-flattering sweater out of his suitcase and over his head, taking a pair of his boyfriend's jeans left out on the floor, instead of his usual
You, you and your mistakes. Any other person, Id just ask- when will you learn? But I know you already did.
Do you really feel the need to burn so badly? Because you will. And you will be the final victim, as Im sure we both know. Ive never underestimated you. Youre a beautiful little boy, but you never grew all the way into your mind, your body. Youre just a little boy torn up, ripped up, cut and pasted. Oh yes, I steal your words. Oh yes, I heard that. I heard it all. Not commutative, is it, the statement? I never underestimated you. Because you underestimated me.
And still Ill never find you.
Even if
Today she breaks, on the subway she sees someone-
Someone who brings up too many memories. Only bears a passing resemblance, but its still too much. Too much, too soon. Too fucking soon.
Shouldnt have died so soon.
She comes home, and remembers why she decided they wouldnt have big knives in their house. Because of days like this. And she misses, she misses fearing for her life not from herself, but from the choices she followed because she followed love- she followed his ideal. His kind of justice. Followed it, did everything for it.
And yet she doesnt fear for her life at all, even though shes standing here
He walks in, she says hello.
He catches himself remembering the way things used to be, and he knows shes doing the same. The shock of the pain would never dull. Times supposed to heal, but it cant dissolve the shrapnel underneath the skin. Nothing can.
He brings the cigarette to his mouth, and recalls the way hed stop as soon as he got that look. Back when hed known what it was to be complete. Before his life had been stolen. Before all beauty, all meaning, all trust and belief and love had been ripped out from underneath him by a goddamn notebook. She has to ask him to stop, and he does reluctantly.
Her eyes
Tiaras and Twisted Dreams by kaiesthai, literature
Literature
Tiaras and Twisted Dreams
It was printed in an interview with Misa-Misa last week that she had always, always, always loved to play dress-up.
This was true.
When Amane Misa was a little girl, she would put on her mothers high heels and toddle around, her older sister standing behind her to make sure she didnt fall and hurt herself. She wanted to be pretty like the princesses in all her stories, because only the princesses got the princes and little Misa had decided it wasnt worth the effort to be someone mediocre, to get someone mediocre, but she wasnt going to be a nobody. She was determined to be a star from the moment she understood what i
She screams.
Her voice rang in an empty room the first time I heard it like this, but now-
She asked to be here, didnt she? She said she loved the fields at night.
Darling, dearest, lover-girl, I only want you happy. Nothing more. So stop screaming, cant you, for a second? I only need to show you what it means to be. It would only take a second. You would never have to scream again, I promise!
You make me feel so much more than the broken pieces you stepped on once when Im with you, dont you understand? I want you to feel the same way. And for you to feel the same way, you have to be broken and walked on. Don
You. Fuck off.
i hate you i hate you i hate you i hate you i hate you i hate me i hate you i hate you i hate you i hate you i hate you i hate us i hate you i hate you i hate me me me me me
I WILL NEVER BE
always yours for all eternity because we forgot where the lines went, whyd we forget, whyd we go losing them?
The destruction of the self is a sublime thing only when the victim was once great. Theres a sadistic sort of pleasure in the tearing apart, the sort of internal civil war between the god and the animal that brings the combination, the human, down. Its a sacrifice always made, because theres somethin
His steps were taken self-consciously, and he knew they seemed strange- or at least, he felt that they were strange. These hallways were bathed in a golden sort of light, and seemed like home. Someones home. The architecture was exquisite, far more than most would even dream of, but they seemed... warm, somehow.
He liked it cold.
As they were leading him to what was apparently his room, he saw one door open- he could only get a glimpse of the boy inside, but it was enough. His eyes were an icy blue-
It struck him that icy was the most appropriate word to describe them of any. They seemed like they could be the watery sort, but they w
Your name is Aubrey Kilmaron, and you fear (too much to) love.
-
It started some cold dark day when you were small and you first realized the fairytale games girls in your kindergarten played were nothing like what you came home to. The rules of playing house were unfamiliar, and though you only learned the word two grades later, they felt too optimistic to hold past the age of playgrounds and lunchboxes everyone's mother packed for them except yours. This was the first time your teachers or little classmates ever heard you laugh, when you realized this; it was a soft sound, rare and terrifyingly aged. It sounded like your father's, and the
By the time he wakes he's alone in the room. It's seven AM, the day before his twenty-third birthday, and beside him the bed is empty. The shades have already been drawn up, although there's little light to let in. The sky outside is a grey-blue peculiar to the moments before dawn on a rainy day. He reads the note left on his lover's side of the bed, pausing before he rouses himself.
The silence of the emptiness disconcerts him, so as he dresses himself he sings. He pulls some tasteful conservative-but-flattering sweater out of his suitcase and over his head, taking a pair of his boyfriend's jeans left out on the floor, instead of his usual
He walks in, she says hello.
He catches himself remembering the way things used to be, and he knows shes doing the same. The shock of the pain would never dull. Times supposed to heal, but it cant dissolve the shrapnel underneath the skin. Nothing can.
He brings the cigarette to his mouth, and recalls the way hed stop as soon as he got that look. Back when hed known what it was to be complete. Before his life had been stolen. Before all beauty, all meaning, all trust and belief and love had been ripped out from underneath him by a goddamn notebook. She has to ask him to stop, and he does reluctantly.
Her eyes
Tiaras and Twisted Dreams by kaiesthai, literature
Literature
Tiaras and Twisted Dreams
It was printed in an interview with Misa-Misa last week that she had always, always, always loved to play dress-up.
This was true.
When Amane Misa was a little girl, she would put on her mothers high heels and toddle around, her older sister standing behind her to make sure she didnt fall and hurt herself. She wanted to be pretty like the princesses in all her stories, because only the princesses got the princes and little Misa had decided it wasnt worth the effort to be someone mediocre, to get someone mediocre, but she wasnt going to be a nobody. She was determined to be a star from the moment she understood what i
Her frame was thin. Delicate. It seemed as if she were made of air itself, the subtleties of her movement betraying the truth of what she was.
Her eyes, though, were something beyond the realm of the natural. When you looked into her eyes, you looked into a void. Endless pain, endless hatred, endless annihilation.
Despair.
Her eyes were the eyes of despair.
---
She collapses on the ground, her movements still so soft, her body still so ethereal.
The way she bends to your will has the same sort of beauty, and you love it. Live for it, even.
She becomes the meaning in your life. Her beauty and her eternity, even if it is the eternity of
His steps were taken self-consciously, and he knew they seemed strange- or at least, he felt that they were strange. These hallways were bathed in a golden sort of light, and seemed like home. Someones home. The architecture was exquisite, far more than most would even dream of, but they seemed... warm, somehow.
He liked it cold.
As they were leading him to what was apparently his room, he saw one door open- he could only get a glimpse of the boy inside, but it was enough. His eyes were an icy blue-
It struck him that icy was the most appropriate word to describe them of any. They seemed like they could be the watery sort, but they w
You. Fuck off.
i hate you i hate you i hate you i hate you i hate you i hate me i hate you i hate you i hate you i hate you i hate you i hate us i hate you i hate you i hate me me me me me
I WILL NEVER BE
always yours for all eternity because we forgot where the lines went, whyd we forget, whyd we go losing them?
The destruction of the self is a sublime thing only when the victim was once great. Theres a sadistic sort of pleasure in the tearing apart, the sort of internal civil war between the god and the animal that brings the combination, the human, down. Its a sacrifice always made, because theres somethin
She screams.
Her voice rang in an empty room the first time I heard it like this, but now-
She asked to be here, didnt she? She said she loved the fields at night.
Darling, dearest, lover-girl, I only want you happy. Nothing more. So stop screaming, cant you, for a second? I only need to show you what it means to be. It would only take a second. You would never have to scream again, I promise!
You make me feel so much more than the broken pieces you stepped on once when Im with you, dont you understand? I want you to feel the same way. And for you to feel the same way, you have to be broken and walked on. Don
Today she breaks, on the subway she sees someone-
Someone who brings up too many memories. Only bears a passing resemblance, but its still too much. Too much, too soon. Too fucking soon.
Shouldnt have died so soon.
She comes home, and remembers why she decided they wouldnt have big knives in their house. Because of days like this. And she misses, she misses fearing for her life not from herself, but from the choices she followed because she followed love- she followed his ideal. His kind of justice. Followed it, did everything for it.
And yet she doesnt fear for her life at all, even though shes standing here
this is insane to say the least by Carmetsys, literature
Literature
this is insane to say the least
This is insane to say the least.
I tell you, when was the last time you decided to give up your life for a noble cause, the last time you seriously decided to become a martyr?
If you have before, and were serious enough to go through with it, then you probably aren't around to read this right now.
But the rest of you: Can you imagine laying your lives on the line for the better good of this world? Could anything convince you to make that fatal decision?
Stop, right now, and Imagine it.
If you can't imagine it, you can't imagine what's running though my mind right now.
What am I doing?
I still can't believe I'm doing this.
I'm not sure
i can't keep not-writing. the blocks won't go away on their own so i have to push through whatever i have to push through, hahaa, whether that's withdrawal from medication or just through the walls of my mind. i need to create. i may delete my entire gallery i have up now except for a few certain pieces though, i don't want all that bs i wrote when i was an emo 12 year old.
life is busy. but that makes it all the more necessary to find time for the things that count~
Ikazuyr-Eru (https://www.deviantart.com/ikazuyr-eru) and Needling (https://www.deviantart.com/needling) i want to write with you, so B email me and courtney text me. kthxbai.
<3